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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27669136">Sometimes They Come Back</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/willl/pseuds/willl'>willl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>K-pop, NCT (Band), Sometimes They Come Back - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Blood and Injury, Child Death, Demon Summoning, Demons, English teacher Kun, Flashbacks, Gangs, Gen, Gym teacher Lucas, Horror, Kun is troubled and doesn't deserve any of this, Mild Gore, Murder, Nightmares, Principal Johnny, Private School, Renjun is evil and sexy, Swearing, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:16:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27669136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/willl/pseuds/willl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kun was distraught when he lost his brother Sicheng at a very young age. Sixteen years later, he’s moved on from his trauma and made a living as a high school literature teacher. However, with the entrance of a troubled young student, along comes reminders of his brother’s gruesome end and somehow, Kun feels a daunting link. Based on Stephen King's Sometimes They Come Back, but differs from the original plot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sometimes They Come Back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Crossposted from my tumblr.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Sunday</em>.</p><p>The clock read 03:26 when Qian Kun woke up from his nightmare, panting and covered in sweat. Long ago, this was a familiar occurrence. Long ago, it was strange if he <em>didn’t </em>wake up like this. But, long ago, this all ended. It had been fourteen years since the nightmares stopped - so why were they happening again now?</p><p>Shaking, Kun got out of bed and trudged downstairs to the kitchen in the house where he lived alone, and had done for many years now. He flicked the switch to boil the kettle; there was no way he was getting back to sleep any time soon. His toes tapped anxiously on the tile floor while he sat at the table, picking at a hangnail on his left thumb. Why <em>now</em>, all this time after he had recovered, was he being forced to relive his brother’s murder as he slept?</p><p>The kettle boiled with a click, and Kun jumped. He huffed, hand on his chest, and went to prepare his drink. Coffee, black. He couldn’t take anything light or sugary, not that night. The sharpness of his beverage bit at him, and it was what he needed - a sensory distraction from the images currently filling his mind. His brother Sicheng, just thirteen years old; the light leaving his eyes as he went limp in Kun’s arms; the blood flooding out of his stab wound, bathing them both in crimson; the greaser gang dispersing, leaving Kun alone to yell, bawl, and beg. Kun shuddered, swallowing back nausea. God, he wanted to forget. But he knew he never could.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-figure">
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    <p> </p>
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  <em>(Timeskip - 16 years earlier)</em>
</p><p>The weather had been fair on the afternoon that Kun lost his brother; the sky was blue, cloudless, and the air was practically alive with all the opportunities for young boys to find fun. The afternoon had begun much like any other. The young Kun and Sicheng, revolting against the idea of spending any time inside while the sun was shining, had set off towards their favourite diner, just a few blocks away. Kun remembered every detail exactly - he had relived the event every time he fell asleep for years afterwards - his brother’s bright blue t-shirt, the freckles scattering his cheeks, the frayed laces in his favourite sneakers. Sicheng was still small at thirteen years old, not yet having hit that growth spurt he was waiting for. In their neighbourhood, plagued with crime, bullies, and greaser gangs, Sicheng’s size put him at a disadvantage. Kun, though not huge himself, always felt protective over his younger brother, and had gotten into many a fistfight in his defence. That fated day felt perfectly normal, up until the moment they turned onto the diner’s street.</p><p>Fourteen-year-old Kun sighed. Swarmed around the entrance of their beloved diner was a group of greasers, complete with coal-black leather jackets and huge, hulking motorcycles.</p><p>“Come on, let’s go,” Sicheng said, hands tucked in his pockets. “Maybe tomorrow.”</p><p>“No,” Kun said abruptly, and Sicheng looked at him in surprise. “I’m sick of living my life in fear of these idiots. They don’t own the diner - we can just walk right past them and go inside. They can’t stop us.”</p><p>“Are you sure? What about little Shotaro?”</p><p>This made Kun pause. Everybody knew the story about little Shotaro. In the next town over, a boy a few years younger than them had been beaten to a pulp, almost killed, over a ridiculous turf war that he hadn’t even been involved in. Kun clenched his jaw, angry at the injustice, thoughts of the incident only spurring him on. He had more confidence that day than perhaps ever before.</p><p>“They won’t touch us.” Kun truly believed this. The group in question, a few years older than the brothers, had never caused them harm before. The most they had done before was chase them, and once spat on them, which had been an awful humiliation indeed, but Kun didn’t think they’d be bold enough to hurt them - it was all an act, a front to look tough. “Let's go,” Kun said with an edge of determination, and Sicheng followed him closely down the street.</p><p>As predicted, the greasers weren’t happy when Kun and Sicheng approached them - far from it. A boy, around seventeen or so, eyeballed the boys as soon as they got close. He scoffed when he saw that they weren’t stopping. “Yo,” he barked. “Diner’s ours today. Turn around.”</p><p>Kun puffed out his chest despite his nerves. “No.”</p><p>The greaser laughed incredulously, elbowing his buddy in the side as if sharing some ridiculous joke. He turned to Kun and Sicheng, looking down at them as though they were ants on the sidewalk. “Hold up. The fuck did you just say?”</p><p>“I said <em>no</em>,” Kun held his ground, fists clenched to keep them from trembling. Kun bravely chanced a look up at the greaser and was unable to read his expression. It was somewhere between disbelieving surprise and rage; his eyebrows were pulled tightly downwards, and his mouth was agape, showing a snaggletooth. </p><p>Kun felt Sicheng tug on the back of his shirt, holding onto his brother to ease his anxiety. He spoke up, following his older brother's lead. "We only want to get some milkshakes," he spoke with a tremor to his words. "Let us in."</p><p>There were sniggers and sneers from the group of greasers. "No means no, kid. Get lost," the ringleader spoke, leaning in close to Sicheng where he stood huddled behind Kun. "Before I make you wish you were never born. You don’t wanna fuck with me today."</p><p>Kun scoffed. "You wouldn't hurt us."</p><p>The ringleader raised a skeptical eyebrow at Kun, before stepping back, rolling up the sleeves of his leather jacket. "Grab him, boys."</p><p>Before Kun had the time to process the instruction, a pair of arms grabbed him from behind. He pulled, trying to break free, but it was to no avail. With the older boys being bigger and stronger, Kun's struggles were useless. Terror flooded his system; he had been wrong. The greasers weren't afraid to hurt him. They hadn't even hesitated. He had gravely misjudged their threat levels. As Kun grappled with the older boys, Sicheng watched. As if in slow-motion, Kun saw a fist, tightly curled, thrusting towards him, marked with a dark birthmark. </p><p>He heard the crack in his jaw before he felt the blinding pain. The pain was white-hot; it spread throughout his face, scalding his bones and making him groan. The greaser hit him again, and again, busting his nose. Kun felt dizzy with the pain, and his vision blurred.</p><p>"Let him go!" Kun heard Sicheng stick up for him as he went limp in the greasers' iron hold. "Let him go, you… y-you…"</p><p>The greaser laughed. "Spit it out, kid."</p><p>"You bitch!" Sicheng managed, almost panting with the effort.</p><p>Kun looked up to see the greaser gaping - Sicheng had managed to genuinely shock him. There was a fire in his eyes that Kun noticed despite his hazy vision. Still detained, Kun watched as the greaser reached into his leather jacket. He saw a silver flash, and naively wondered why he would wield a comb in such a threatening way.</p><p>It wasn’t until Sicheng was on his knees, crouched over and clutching his abdomen, that Kun realised it hadn’t been a comb.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” gasped the greaser holding Kun back. He stepped back, releasing Kun, who fell onto his hands and knees. </p><p>“S-Sicheng,” Kun gasped, unable to breathe. Sicheng’s blood poured onto the pavement, and Kun felt it on his hands, warm, as he crawled towards his brother. Distantly, Kun noticed the crowd of greasers disperse, <em>fast</em>, but all he could focus on was Sicheng. </p><p>“Ambulance-” Kun choked out, unsure who he was calling to. “Somebody get an ambulance!”</p><p>Kun caught his brother as he collapsed, wheezing. “Sicheng, no- I- you can’t-”</p><p>Sicheng’s eyelids were heavy and they struggled to remain open. Kun knew it was too late - there was too much blood on the ground, on Kun. Sicheng went limp in his arms, his eyes went glassy. Kun screamed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Kun suffered from a dark and heavy grief after losing Sicheng. The world seemed bleak and pointless for some time. He couldn’t understand why he was being made to live in this world, a world without his brother and best friend. What cruel hands of fate would ever take away such a young, innocent life? Plagued by nightmares, Kun trudged through the next few years. </p><p>However, as is inevitable when it comes to the resilient nature of mankind, Kun managed to move on. He went to therapy, vanquished his demons, and held Sicheng close to his heart. He stepped out of the shadow that grief had cast upon him, and vowed to live a better life than the one Sicheng had, the one that was cut far too short. He worked hard, went to a good college, and moved out of the area that was haunted by nightmares of gangs and crime. </p><p>Sixteen years after losing his brother, Kun had made quite a life for himself. He taught literature to wealthy children at a prestigious private school. The school was nothing like the one he and Sicheng had attended in their youth. Kun taught the children of politicians, CEO’s, people with money. The students Kun taught were free of leather jackets and motorcycles, and their pockets had never seen switchblade knives. They thrived in an environment that nurtured its students, looked after them and educated them. Kun lived a calm life, a stable life. He went to work each day and there wasn’t a steel-toed boot or studded leather glove in sight. He was in peace -</p><p>
  <em>Monday.</em>
</p><p>Until that week. Kun rubbed his eyes as he yawned, stretching his legs, stiff from sitting at his kitchen table for such a long time. Not a single nightmare about his brother’s death for fourteen years, and now, out of the blue… Kun had dreamed of Sicheng’s death every night for a week. It was as puzzling as it was concerning. Kun blinked tiredly, looking up at the clock on the wall of his kitchen. He jumped - he had been sitting there all night. He stood, going to his window and pulling back the curtains. It was true; morning light illuminated the dew drops on his lawn, which was littered with small birds twittering away to each other. He put on another pot of coffee; it was only an hour until he had to leave for work.</p><p>Kun had had the week from hell. Each dream had been different; in some, Sicheng roared at Kun, blood gurgling from his mouth as he cursed his brother for failing to save him; in others, Kun was stabbed alongside his brother. Some dreams were a perfect replica of the actual events. One thing remained unchanged, though. Kun never saw the face of the attacker. He knew it was just a matter of his brain blocking out details to protect him, but it frustrated him at times. Kun could never hunt the man down, not even if he wanted to. He could walk past the man on the street and be none the wiser.</p><p>His house had begun to feel like a prison; he had spent each night either waking in a cold sweat, or sipping coffee at his kitchen table when the threat of nightmares was too daunting for him to even lie down. And he had spent his days recuperating. A dreadful headache had been afflicting him, and he had taken the whole week off work. Now, however, he knew he had to return. Though still exhausted, and with a dull pounding tormenting his head, Kun was very aware of how easy it was to slip back into a depressive slump. He believed that the normalcy of his work environment would soothe him, and that the darkness that had built up in his home could be shed by a nice, regular day at work.</p><p>Or so he thought.</p><p>Kun felt uneasy throughout his day at the school; there was a darkness hanging in the air, albeit a darkness only himself picked up on. He coasted through the day, serving mediocre lessons and dodging his students’ questions of, <em>“Where have you been, Mr Qian?”</em> and <em>“Were you sick, Mr Qian?”</em></p><p>Something was <em>off</em>. There were dark clouds that lingered at the edges of his vision, always staying in his peripheral, never quite coming into view. There were cold spots that sent chills down his spine, and whispers that were too distant to decipher. Kun tried to brush off his paranoia as a lingering side effect of the built-up sleep deprivation he was facing, but he simply couldn’t deny the fact that something just felt <em>wrong</em>.</p><p>All too soon, the school day ended. Students filtered out of the building, and Kun was alone with his thoughts yet again. Resting his forehead on the cool wooden surface of his desk, he allowed himself a very self-indulgent groan, an attempt to release his frustration and restlessness. It didn’t work - not that he actually thought it would. Kun knew that he could use the excuse of <em>catching up on work </em>to remain in his classroom for a good few hours. However there was a limited amount of work he could stay behind to carry out, and he would have to return home soon enough, back to the darkness and the nightmares. </p><p>Kun stood, stretching his aching muscles, and idly looked out of his classroom window. Winter was approaching - though only just past four in the afternoon, a grey gloom was already beginning to fall as the sky darkened. He would go home now, he decided. At least there he could set the fire going, change into a warm sweater, and make himself dinner as he worked. Kun donned his favourite brown coat, picked up his worn briefcase, and departed his classroom.</p><p>“Mr Qian.” Kun stopped on the way to his car when he heard his name. His head whipped around at lightning speed; one could say he was a little on-edge.</p><p>“Principal Suh, hello,” Kun greeted his boss.</p><p>“You’re feeling better, I hope?” the principal spoke as he caught up with Kun, who faked a smile and nodded. “Great. I was hoping to catch you tomorrow morning but since I’ve got you now; there’s a transfer student, he’ll be in your first-period class tomorrow. I only feel the need to warn you because…” the principal paused, taking a measured sigh, as if trying to find the best words to use. “Well, he’s a bit of a problem child, it seems.”</p><p>Kun nodded and smiled at all the correct intervals, clenching a fist inside his pocket to cope with the frustration of how badly he wanted to get home. </p><p>“Nothing we can’t handle,” the principal continued, “Nothing we haven’t seen before. Rich kid lashing out to get daddy’s attention.” Kun gave a cynical laugh. “Huang Renjun. I’ll give you his file tomorrow morning.”</p><p>
  <em>Huang Renjun.</em>
</p><p>Kun recognised that name from somewhere. He began to think back, but was pulled sharply from his thoughts by a searing pain in his jaw. It was deeply reminiscent of the injury he suffered from all those years ago, during his brother’s accident; the dislocated jaw he sustained when the wretched greaser had hit him.</p><p>“Right,” Kun commented distractedly, plastering that fake smile upon his face once again. “See you tomorrow, Principal Suh.” The man smiled, giving Kun a hearty pat on the back before departing. </p><p>Kun hurried to his car. The pain in his jaw was worrying, and it only became more intense with each passing moment. He couldn’t think what could’ve brought this on - surely not repercussions from his previous injury, which had healed fine and hadn’t shown a single problem in sixteen years. He drove home, the ache hanging over him like a thick fog. Once there, Kun fell into his bed, passing out just as the pain became paralysing.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>Tuesday, 6:03am</em>
</p><p>Kun awoke the next morning, feeling as though he hadn’t slept a wink, despite the thirteen hours he had under his belt. Groggily, he brought a hand up to his jaw, rubbing it tentatively. No more pain. That was relieving. Still, even with the lack of pain, he wouldn’t consider the morning particularly pleasant thus far.</p><p>Kun had dreamed again that night. Another nightmare replaying Sicheng’s death. This dream, however, had been different from any other before. The faceless entity who stabbed his brother had a name. The name was never spoken, never outright stated, but Kun knew it to be true; his name was Huang Renjun. </p><p>Kun sat up, rubbing his tired eyes. He had a bad feeling. <em>Come on, Kun, be rational,</em> he willed himself. This was just his brain feeding the day’s information into his dream. Obviously there was no link between Kun’s new student and the bastard who killed his brother sixteen years ago - obviously. The logical part of Kun’s brain believed this completely. But he had a gut feeling that something was very, very wrong. He couldn’t shake the feeling, and it laid heavy in his stomach like a stone. He couldn’t shake it as he made breakfast, and he couldn’t shake it as he washed his face and dressed for work. It overpowered even the pounding in his head, which was rather powerful itself.</p><p>Kun knocked back some painkillers; he couldn’t take another day off, as he had used up all his paid sick days until the end of the semester. Even if he <em>did </em>have another sick day available, Kun didn’t think he would take it. He had a real feeling of dread, entirely surrounding Huang Renjun, transfer student and alleged problem child, guest and visitor to Kun’s nightmares. Call it morbid curiosity, but Kun had to meet the boy. He wondered if these feelings would go away once he met the student. Kun imagined it, all dread and darkness dissipating when he saw that Huang Renjun was just a regular teenage boy, albeit a little troubled.</p><p>Maybe it was just the pessimistic devil on his shoulder, but he doubted it. Everything lined up just a little too nicely for his liking - the return of his nightmares, the unshakable feelings of both dread and paranoia, the ache in his jaw, and the entrance of this child. God, Kun felt like a madman, but it truly felt linked to him.</p><p>A while later, Kun was still pondering these things as he paced up and down the staff room, clutching his coffee mug a little too tightly.</p><p>“Morning, Kun.”</p><p>The greeting was innocuous, harmless. But Kun, like a skittish horse, jumped out of his skin and allowed his mug to fall to the ground, shattering. Kun sighed.</p><p>“Woah, sorry,” Yukhei apologised, surprised and worried. “Didn’t mean to scare you there.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Kun waved it off with a shaky smile. “Way too much caffeine in my system.”</p><p>Yukhei, gym teacher and Kun’s friend, silently helped him clean up the mess. Kun was thankful, and displayed his appreciation with another smile that he hoped seemed genuine.</p><p>Kun looked up, after sweeping up some smaller shards, to find Yukhei looking at him inquisitively. “Are you doing okay?” the taller man asked.</p><p>“I- Yeah. Yeah, I’m doing fine.” Even to his own ears, Kun didn’t put on a very convincing show.</p><p>“Burnout is a real thing, bro. You gotta take care of yourself.”</p><p>Kun’s heart raced a little, at the receival of some genuine human concern. He hadn't realised the effect it had had upon him, isolating himself for that week-long period. Kun nodded, trying hard not to tear up. “Thanks, Yukhei.” </p><p>“I think Principal Suh was looking for you, by the way,” Yukhei mentioned offhandedly. </p><p>The kid’s file - Kun had completely forgotten. In a display of perfect timing, the bell sounded, signalling the beginning of first period.</p><p>“Shit,” muttered Kun. </p><p>Yukhei gave Kun a supportive pat on the back. “We should have a catch up soon, man. You know where I am if you need anything.” </p><p>With that, Yukhei was gone, presumably to teach a class, and Kun followed after him, out into the crowds of tired, blathering teenagers. He supposed he’d just have to read the file whenever Principal Suh was free to contact him.</p><p>Kun’s classroom was full by the time he reached it - <em>had he really taken that long?</em> he wondered distantly. His students were a little rowdy despite the early hour, seizing the lack of supervision and taking full advantage of it, chatting to each other noisily. They hadn’t noted his arrival yet, so Kun took the opportunity to stand in the doorway for a moment, unseen and undetected. He glanced around the room, and his eyes fell upon his new student easily. </p><p>Huang Renjun. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Where his classmates dressed appropriately in the uniformed navy blazers, Renjun wore a very prominent black leather jacket. Kun swallowed nervously. The boy was facing away from Kun, speaking to his peers, but he knew it was him. Taking a shaky breath, Kun stepped into his classroom, pushing through the panic brought on by one of his triggers. The leather jacket, far too reminiscent of his youth and the traumas he endured there, had had a profound effect on him, but he had the necessary coping mechanisms to deal with it. He inhaled deeply, paused, and exhaled.</p><p>Kun cleared his throat as he entered the room, and the chatter quietened. “Excuse me,” he spoke, his voice clear and bold, pointedly avoiding looking at the boy. “I know you’re new here, but you can’t wear that in class.” Still keeping his gaze away from the student, Kun removed his coat and pressed the power button to boot up his computer.</p><p>Huang Renjun remained silent, although another student, Haeun, spoke up. “What are you talking about, Mr Qian? He’s wearing the uniform.” </p><p>Kun blinked, finally taking another look at Renjun. The boy had turned around and was, in fact, complying entirely with the uniform code. Blazer included. No leather jacket to be seen. A few students snickered at Kun’s mistake. Luckily, he knew he wouldn’t get mocked too much; most of his students respected him highly. He was well-liked, generally. They would let this mistake pass.</p><p>Renjun wasn’t looking at Kun. His gaze was pointed straight down towards his desk, face hidden behind long bangs.</p><p>“Oh. Right. I apologise, it must’ve been a trick of the light.” Kun gave a sincere apology. Though he was paranoid, exhausted, filled with dread, he wasn’t going to forego his manners.</p><p>“No worries, sir,” Renjun forgave him easily. He sounded like a regular teenager, Kun thought, although he wasn’t sure what else he expected. The student looked up at Kun, using his hand to flick his hair out of his face. Kun noted the mark on his hand, the dark birthmark. He began to feel dizzy; he knew that mark. </p><p>Out of nowhere, Kun felt that pain again - that white-hot, blinding bite in his jaw. It reached out its burning tendrils, spreading all throughout his face. Kun stepped back, staggering almost, as he cupped his jaw apprehensively. Kun was still looking at Renjun, who moved his stare, looking directly into Kun’s eyes.</p><p>Renjun’s eyes were black. No whites, no iris. Pure, solid black.</p><p>Though Kun didn't think it was possible, the pain intensified. Grey spots danced across the classroom as his vision went spotty, fizzling like static on a television. Kun swayed, reaching out to grab the edge of his desk for support but missing it entirely, catching thin air instead. Heavy as a stone, Kun fell to the ground, passing out.</p><p>The last thing he saw was Huang Renjun glaring at him, a malicious smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-figure">
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  <em>Tuesday, 9:53am</em>
</p><p>Kun's eyes snapped open. The fluorescent lights above his head were harsh, and he winced, blinking. He was lying down; where was he?</p><p>"Oh, you're awake. How are you feeling, Mr Qian?" The school nurse, Joohyun. Right. He had passed out in class.</p><p>Kun sat up abruptly. Huang Renjun - that piercing gaze, the menacing grin. </p><p>Nurse Joohyun spoke to him again. "You passed out during first period. Do you remember that, Mr Qian?"</p><p>"Yes," Kun confirmed, rubbing his jaw and reminiscing of the pain prior to his fainting spell. It was now entirely painless. "Migraine," Kun materialised his excuse on the spot, "They've been bothering me lately."</p><p>"Ah," Joohyun nodded in sympathetic understanding, talking as she prepared Kun a cup of water and passed it to him. "Nasty things. You should go home and rest for the remainder of the day. Will you be able to drive yourself home?"</p><p>"Yes, thank you." Kun didn't realise how thirsty he was until the water passed his lips. He drank it gratefully.</p><p>Nurse Joohyun departed, leaving Kun in the quiet once again. He finished his water and left the school with haste. Once in his car, he allowed himself to fall apart a little, unseen. When he threw his head into his hands, he found that he was shaking, trembling. Was this it? Was he going insane?</p><p>No. Kun’s mind was sharp. He knew it was still intact. He always had been a logical man, and so he remained. He only believed in what he saw, what he knew to be the complete truth. And even now, when the very truths of reality had become so dark and twisted, he knew that what his mind believed was the absolute truth.</p><p>He kept his eyes trained directly on the road, focused straight ahead as he thought. He had to be rational here. In completely untenable circumstances, Kun had to remain tenable. In this utterly illogical situation, Kun had to think logically.</p><p>He laid the facts out in front of him: sixteen years ago, his brother was stabbed. He suffered from terrible grief. He went to therapy, grew up, the nightmares went away. He worked hard, got a good job, and moved on. Everything was okay. Right?</p><p>Then the nightmares returned. A new student arrived at his school, Huang Renjun. He started getting splitting pains in his jaw, right where that bastard punched him before murdering his brother. The student featured in his nightmares. He had the same birthmark as that killer. Kun made eye contact with Renjun and passed out. And the student had looked at him with that expression, that malicious smile. A look of pure evil.</p><p>And so, illigocial, irrational, implausible, untenable as it was, Kun knew it to be true. Sixteen years ago, Huang Renjun murdered Sicheng. And now, sixteen years later, Huang Renjun was a student in Kun’s class, not having aged a day.</p><p>Kun was home before he knew it. He went inside, but didn’t rest. He didn’t sleep, didn’t close his eyes for longer than a blink until the next morning.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-figure">
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</div><p> </p><p><em>Wednesday</em>.</p><p>Kun felt unsafe in the school. He was angry; how dare this entity make him feel so uncomfortable in his own place of work? He felt the lingering darkness, even when he was surrounded by students and faculty. It smothered him like a blanket of smoke, impossibly heavy and making him choke.</p><p>Kun wasn’t teaching Huang Renjun’s class that day. Yet he was still terrified. Paranoia tinged his vision, altered his very perception of reality; every student that entered his classroom was Renjun, until he blinked and they weren’t. Every sudden movement was a punch flying towards his jaw, until he shook himself and there was no threat. He was completely on edge all day. </p><p>While Kun was exhausted, he was also overwhelmed with the energies of a thousand different emotions. He was terrified, paranoid, furious, devastated. He couldn’t believe that he was back here, replaying Sicheng’s death in his mind over and over. This piece of shit, this monster - he was here solely to fuck with Kun. And the worst part of it was that he was succeeding. Kun felt defiant. He couldn’t let this thing ruin him. Not for a second time.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-figure">
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  <em>Kun looked around. The sun was shining brightly, but he didn’t feel its warm rays. He stepped on a piece of bright pink bubblegum, flattened on the pavement, but his shoes didn’t stick. He looked up; thirteen-year-old Sicheng was looking back at him.<br/></em>
</p><p>Oh, fuck. Not again.</p><p>
  <em>Kun wished he could grab his younger brother by the arm and march him back home, stopping the imminent events before they even happened. But the picture was already in motion. Before Kun knew it, he and Sicheng were stood before the greaser gang. </em>
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  <em>“Diner’s ours today. Turn around,” barked the ringleader, Huang Renjun.</em>
</p><p>Wait, Huang Renjun?</p><p>
  <em>Surely enough, the boy from Kun’s class was in front of him, in all his greaser glory - leather jacket donned, hair slicked back, snaggletooth displayed in a mean snarl. Slowly, the other greasers melted away, ceasing to exist in this dreamland. Even Sicheng evaporated. Only Kun and Renjun remained.</em>
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  <em>“What the fuck do you want with me?” Kun asked, his voice dripping with equal parts anger and desperation.</em>
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  <em>Renjun shrugged, smiling smugly. He looked as though he were playing his favourite game. “You’re fun to mess with, Kun.”</em>
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  <em>“Fuck off,” Kun bit back. “Haven’t you messed with me enough?”</em>
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  <em>Renjun laughed. And laughed, and laughed. The hideous melody went on for far too long, and Kun winced at the sound. “I’ve barely even begun messing with you, Kun! Wait and see, how depraved you’ll get. People do funny things when you push them far enough.”</em>
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  <em>Renjun stepped closer to Kun. Somehow, the child towered above him. “And I- Can’t- Wait-” each word was punctuated by a tap on Kun’s nose, “To see what you’ll do.”</em>
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  <em>Kun tried to slap his hand away, but missed. “You’re sick,” he spat, “You’re a monster.”</em>
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  <em>“Well, duh,” Renjun scoffed. “You’re just stating the obvious here, Kunny.”</em>
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  <em>“Get the fuck away from me,” Kun hissed, stumbling backwards. He turned, running down streets that were so familiar yet so distant to him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You can run,” Renjun’s voice followed him, “But you’ll never escape.”</em>
</p><p>Kun woke with a start, panting in his bed. His usual calming mantra of <em>“It’s just a dream,”</em> did nothing that night. Kun knew that it was far more than a petty nightmare. This was real - all too real.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-figure">
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  <em>Thursday, 11:12am</em>
</p><p>Kun had Renjun’s class again that day, and he was determined not to let the child hurt him. He had it figured out, or so he thought; don’t look the kid in the eyes, don’t speak to him, don’t even acknowledge his presence. And then Kun would be safe. This was all a game to Renjun, and Kun would not be playing. He simply would not engage.</p><p>The class began relatively smoothly. Though it was late morning, the sun hid behind thick clouds which produced a healthy drizzle, darkening the world and giving the background noise of rain against the classroom windows, <em>pitter patter. </em>Kun worked hard to ignore the heavy weight that hung over him, and the dark energy that Huang Renjun exuded from the back of the room. Nobody else seemed to pick up in it, but Kun sure as hell did. He could've collapsed under its pressure, it was so heavy. But he remained strong, resisting toughly against its darkness.</p><p>Kun gripped a paperback tightly in his hand. <em>Macbeth</em>. A text he knew well, and found easy to teach.</p><p>"So," Kun explained to his class, "As she desperately tries to rub away this invisible bloodstain, we see Lady Macbeth-"</p><p>"Sir." Kun was interrupted by Renjun. He ignored it.</p><p>"We see Lady-"</p><p>"SIR," Renjun interrupted again, raising his voice.</p><p>Kun looked around the classroom. Nobody else seemed perturbed by the boy's yelling, nobody so much as batted an eyelid. They all looked rather bored, staring off into space or doodling in their notebooks. Part of Kun wondered whether anyone else had actually heard what he did.</p><p>He gave a level sigh. "What is it?" he answered the boy. Kun refused to speak his name, refused to even look at him. He kept his eyes directed down towards the book in his hands, and he noticed his knuckles turn white with their grip. </p><p>"Why are you staring at me?" Renjun's tone was lazy, playful. He was toying with Kun. Driving him to his limit? Daring him to snap?</p><p>"I'm not staring at you," Kun responded, remaining calm. It wasn't easy; Renjun's darkness was overwhelming, pulsating in the air, making Kun's head throb. It brought out the worst in Kun. Oh, how badly he wanted to throw the boy across the room. But he wouldn't. He would stay calm.</p><p>"Yes, you are," Renjun argued, and Kun could hear the smirk in his voice. </p><p>"I'm not," Kun denied.</p><p>"You are," Renjun returned.</p><p>Kun dropped his book, which fell with a <em>slap </em>onto his desk. "I haven't glanced at you once this whole lesson," he snapped. Kun cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure - if one could consider this shaky state composed. "We see Lady Macbeth's descent into madness. Now, can anyone tell me-"</p><p>"Well that's strange."</p><p>"Can anyone tell me how-"</p><p>"Why are you avoiding me, Kun?"</p><p>"Huang, go to the principal's office."</p><p>As soon as Kun spoke that name, the deep, dark energy that had been smothering Kun for the past twenty minutes permeated his body, penetrating his very soul. He shuddered. It was dark; so very dark. It was as if by speaking his name, he had let the beast touch him. He had let him inside, he had been infected.</p><p>"Fine," Renjun said, standing up. His desk was empty, unlike the students that surrounded him. He had no notebook, no notes. No pencil case, no pens. With nothing to gather, he marched straight to the door.</p><p>Kun, in a moment of weakness, or perhaps just a moment of pure stupidity, glanced at the boy for a split second before he slammed the classroom door behind him. A split second was all it took. </p><p>Again, Renjun's eyes were fully black. He grinned at Kun, but it was very much unlike the menacing grimace he had displayed a few days prior. His teeth were bared, rows and rows of razor-sharp fangs, needle-like in nature. They were sheer white, polished and shining, piercing Kun's heart from ten feet away.</p><p>The door slammed, shutting him out, but that split second was long enough to instill fear in Kun's deepest core, absolute terror. The external darkness eased a little once he was gone, returning to a low hum of evil energy, but Kun was shaking as he resumed the lesson. </p><p>As expected, Renjun's behaviour had gone entirely unnoticed by the rest of the class. They didn't even seem disturbed by Kun's raised voice - he was extremely glad about this. He had a deep integral belief that it was wrong to yell at his students. He would have been kicking himself. But he knew Huang Renjun wasn't a student. It wasn't a teenage boy, it was something dark, dangerous.  a powerful entity from god-knows-where.</p><p>Kun gave his students a task to complete at their leisure, and took a seat at his desk. He gripped the heavy oak, trying to still his shaking hands. Maybe he ought to go back to therapy, he considered. But where would he even start? With the death of his brother? With the return of his nightmares? With the entrance of Huang Renjun. </p><p>No, he dismissed the idea. No competent therapist would believe him - he would be sectioned and medicated after a single session. Plus, whatever was going on was solely between him and Renjun; it was completely unseen and unacknowledged by anybody else.</p><p>Kun sounded delirious, even to himself. Nothing in science or logic could possibly provide an explanation for what was happening. But he knew it was real. He knew. Huang Renjun was something cruel, something sick. Something that had crawled right out of hell, directly to Kun's doorstep to torture him. He would figure this out, he vowed. He would rid himself of this beast.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-figure">
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  <em>Thursday, 3:49pm</em>
</p><p>The end of the day - Kun had made it. He let himself relax in his desk chair, leaning back and closing his eyes. He had to admit, he was rather proud of himself. Yes, he’d had a minor run-in with the boy, but he’d managed to diffuse the situation and rid himself of the problem. And, more importantly, he hadn’t passed out this time. Kun scoffed at the hilarity of it all - what a ridiculously low standard for a good day, reaching 3pm without suffering a fainting spell. He would go home and treat himself, he decided, by cooking a comforting stir-fried beef dish.</p><p>
  <em>Knock, knock, knock.</em>
</p><p>Kun sat forwards with a jolt, gripping his desk tightly for some form of stability. He hated living in this near-constant state of fight-or-flight - it could easily be a quiet freshman, coming to ask questions they were too shy to raise in class. It could have been a colleague, a parent, any number of harmless guests. Despite all of the possibilities, Kun’s mind went to the worst place. He was certain he knew who it was. <em>God, don’t let it be him. </em></p><p>The door swung open in a dreadfully slow manner. Pale fingers wrapped themselves around the door, which gave way to reveal none other than Huang Renjun; just Kun’s luck.</p><p>“What do you want?” Kun asked the boy, hackles raised.</p><p>Renjun didn’t respond. He closed the door behind him, and the click sent shivers down Kun’s spine - <em>what was he doing? </em>Kun could only watch, frozen, as the boy moved. He grabbed a chair from behind a desk, and brought it to Kun’s desk. The shiny metal squealed as it was dragged across the floor, making Kun wince. Renjun sat on the chair backwards, facing Kun and leaning his arms on the backrest. He rested his head on his arms, looking up at his teacher. He was the picture of innocence; wide eyes, a small mischievous smile present on his lips. Kun only sat in silence, waiting for the boy to act. He was action-ready, prepared to bolt (or even fight) should Renjun do anything drastic.</p><p>Kun wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before Renjun spoke. Until that point, they had simply been staring at each other, Kun with a panicked look in his bloodshot eyes and Renjun clearly enjoying the effect he was having on the older male. “I’m sorry for upsetting you today,” Renjun said. Kun didn’t reply, only moving his hands to his thighs, digging his nails inwards to ground himself. “Why do you have it out for me?” Renjun spoke again.</p><p>To an outsider, the scene would have been simply heartwrenching. Renjun, a very obviously damaged adolescent who had been hurt by the world many times, looking his teacher in the eye and asking why, pleading almost, begging to be treated right for once in his young life. He sounded like a sad, broken young man; innocent, confused, curious. </p><p>Kun knew it was a ruse.</p><p>“I don’t know what you mean,” Kun denied, his voice low and flat. He gathered some papers on his desk and shuffled them. He busied himself, so as not to get lost within Renjun’s dark energy again. If he were to pass out here, completely alone in the classroom, he had no idea what would become of him.</p><p>Renjun continued his <em>sad little boy</em> pretense, flashing dark puppy-dog eyes up at Kun. “I didn’t do anything to you,” he cooed. “I’m just a kid, right?”</p><p>Kun was certain that Renjun was playing games with him now. He knew that Kun knew. “You’re not <em>just a kid</em>,” Kun snapped, snarling at the boy in front of him. He threw the papers back down on his desk, rolling backwards in his chair to put distance between himself and the child. The sky opened up all of a sudden, rain pouring from the heavens.</p><p>“C’mon, don’t be mean,” Renjun drawled. “Play along, Kun. I’m just a kid… Right?”</p><p>“I’m going home,” Kun stated abruptly, standing up and preparing to remove himself from the situation. Renjun began to cackle, but Kun did everything he could to shut the boy out. He picked up his briefcase and slung his coat over his arm. A dash of thunder cracked through the sky, and Kun jumped.</p><p>“I left you a surprise there,” Renjun spoke, his voice playful.</p><p>Kun turned, running out of his classroom and sprinting down corridors. <em>What the fuck had that bastard done to his house?</em> He was barely even aware of the rain once he reached the school’s exit, though it drenched him in a matter of seconds. In the mad dash to his car, his hair fell flat with the rain, sticking to his forehead, and his shirt clung to his body, turning see-through. He rifled through his coat pockets, hunting for his car keys. </p><p>To the stray students that lingered after school hours, Kun probably looked deranged. But others’ perceptions of him were the least of his worries at that moment. He had no idea what Renjun was capable of - he had no idea what Renjun even was. A ghost? A demon? Something else? He truly didn’t know. He had to get home, and fast.</p><p>Kun was panting when he reached his house, worked up into a complete frenzy of anxiety and agitation. He swung into his driveway hastily, not wanting to lose any precious time perfecting his parking. Half on the driveway and half on his lawn, he stepped out of his car, staggering.</p><p>His front door had been completely torn off its hinges. Kun’s hands met his hair, tugging in helplessness. The door itself was laying haphazardly inside the doorway - if you could even call it a door any more. It was in two pieces, ripped apart. Shards of glass and wood were discarded all around. <em>What the fuck had the monster done? </em></p><p>Kun dreaded to think what this looked like to his neighbours. The elderly couple to the left of him must have been terrified to see that beast rip through his house like a hurricane - how had the police not been called yet?</p><p>Kun gritted his teeth as he entered his house. He knew he had drawn the curtains that morning, but they had been pulled shut since. He squinted, eyes adjusting to the darkness as he fumbled for the light switch with shaky hands. He almost whimpered when the light flickered on. His armchair had been flipped, and his couch was torn, littered with slash marks, made by a knife or even a pair of claws. Kun looked around the room in horror - this was his <em>home</em>. He felt so attacked, so violated. </p><p>His eyes fell upon the mirror that hung above his fireplace, and he was forced to hold onto his ruined couch to save his buckling knees. Scrawled across it, in burning crimson, was his brother’s name, “<em>SICHENG</em>.” </p><p>Kun couldn’t breathe. He looked through the letters to his reflection. He looked every bit as distraught as he felt. He looked like he hadn’t slept in <em>weeks</em>, which he supposed he hadn’t, not properly. He looked like a man whose life was falling apart.</p><p>His home wasn't a safe place for him any more. Physically nor emotionally. Kun darted around his house, grabbing an old duffle bag and filling it with essentials - a change of clothes, his toothbrush, phone charger. He supposed he didn't need his keys, not when any old stranger could wander inside from the streets. After a moment of deliberation, he threw in his largest kitchen knife too. </p><p>Fifteen minutes later, Kun pulled up at a dying establishment, parking his car a little more neatly this time. <em>Elliot Motel</em> read the faded sign, desperately in need of a paint job. The place was deserted - Kun wouldn’t have been surprised to see a tumbleweed rolling past. But it was remote, and it was a place away from his home where he could lay low and hide out until he figured out what to do.</p><p>The bored receptionist hadn’t spared Kun a second glance, for which he was grateful. Once in his allocated room, he double-locked the door and pulled the curtains tightly shut. He didn’t even dare turn on the light, for fear of the yellow glow being visible through the curtains. Although it would come as a shock to him if the place even had working electrics. The dark was better; it gave him a sense of anonymity, and it kept the cockroaches hidden from his view. </p><p>Kun perched on the end of the bed, resting his head in his hands. He could hear his heart hammering, the pulsating sound rattled around his head and he could <em>feel </em>it. He couldn’t think straight - his only emotion was blind panic. He leapt up from the bed, too much energy to stay seated. He paced back and forth in the dark, almost tearing out his hair in terror.</p><p>Hours passed but Kun couldn’t settle. His brain was going a mile a minute, darting from one place to the next. He was frazzled, and he had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to do. He was angry, enraged that this demon would fuck up his life and his home like this. He was terrified, and he felt as though he may be ambushed or attacked any minute. He couldn’t think straight. And exactly as the clock struck midnight, the phone in his dingy motel room began to ring.</p><p>Kun yelped, the harsh trilling ring boring into his soul and making him jump. He scrambled to the old rotary phone, tightly gripping the handle and pulling it close to his ear. He heard nothing at the other end, other than very faint static.</p><p>“Hello?” Kun spoke. His own voice shocked him - he sounded so unstable, like a scared little boy. The same scared little boy who would wake up from nightmares of losing his brother all those years ago.</p><p>A rattling noise came out of the receiver. After a few seconds, Kun realised it was the sound of somebody breathing. Even yet ragged breaths, loud and crackly through the ancient telephone. Kun knew exactly who it was.</p><p>“I know it’s you, bastard,” he hissed into the phone. He was met with more silence. Kun was furious. This monster was ruining him - look at what he’d turned him into. A grown man, a man who was esteemed and well-respected. Crouched on the floor of a dingy motel, clutching a telephone, his once neat shirt and trousers now rumpled and sticky with sweat. This couldn’t go on any longer, Kun decided.</p><p>“Meet me at the school. 3am. We’re ending this.”</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-figure">
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  <em>Thursday, 2:34am.</em>
</p><p>Kun was ready. It hadn't been easy - he'd been through hell and back - but he was prepared. He knew what had to be done, and he was willing to do it.</p><p>In the hours since the dreadful phone call which had riled him up immensely, Kun had darted all over town. </p><p>To the library, where he had left a broken window in his wake (and he could only hope that his makeshift mask would be enough to save him from breaking and entering charges). He had encountered a dusty section he had never noticed before, which was strange in itself. Being a teacher of literature, the library was a place he frequented, though this section he had never happened upon. He was convinced it only bore itself to those in need, but that fact was neither here nor there. He had rifled through the section, leaving pages torn and books scattered, something he never would have done in his normal life. But he did the research he needed to do, and got the exact knowledge he required.</p><p>He had driven back to his house, which no longer felt like a home, to pick up one of the few precious belongings of Sicheng's he had left - necessary for the sacrifice. He had paroled the streets, searching for a stray animal. He never would've harmed an animal but the blood of an innocent creature was needed. He pulled though, apologising deeply to the stray dog which yelped and bit at him.</p><p>And there he stood, in the middle of his classroom, clutching his duffle bag which was filled with the most mismatched assortment of offerings. <em>Raising Demons</em>, the book which had proven most informative, Sicheng's red woollen scarf, a vial full of dog's blood, the butcher knife from his kitchen. He looked like a hot mess and he knew it; his shirt was untucked, most of the buttons now undone, and he had lost his tie long ago. He was panting, and he couldn't seem to find his breath no matter how long he stood still. </p><p>He looked around his classroom. It was empty, but soon that would change - and that wasn't a comforting thought by far. God, he was wasting time, he thought as he stood there dumbly. <em>But where the fuck did he start?</em></p><p>He ran to action, shoving away the desks that surrounded him, creating a clearing in the centre of the room. He threw open the cupboard at the back of the room and pulled out the old stereo that lay dormant in there. He messed with the dials, twiddling them back and forth until static blared out. He flinched at the sound, but it was no louder than the blaring panic that had been reverberating around his skull lately.</p><p>Not wanting to waste another minute, Kun sprinted to the front of the room, grabbing a marker pen and setting to work on the floor. As meticulously as he could with his shaking hands, Kun drew a pentagram, tainting the floor of his beloved classroom. He yanked open his duffle bag, trembling as he placed the items around the pentagram. He picked up the stolen novel, <em>Raising Demons, </em>and jumped to the page he had dog-eared. </p><p><em>Well</em>, Kun thought to himself,<em> No time like the present. </em></p><p>He recited the passage, focusing heavily - he couldn’t get a single word wrong. “Dark Father, hear me for my soul’s sake. I am one who promises sacrifice. I am one who seeks vengeance of the left hand. I bring blood in promise of sacrifice.”</p><p>A wind picked up in the classroom, dark clouds materialising and flying around the pentagram in a tight circle, a tornado of evil.</p><p>Kun had thought he’d witnessed true darkness in the presence of Huang Renjun; he thought he had seen what evil really was. He had been wrong. True darkness, true overwhelming power, true and pure <em>evil</em>, was what he had summoned before him. Renjun was nothing in comparison to this beast. Kun felt sick. </p><p>A voice spoke to him, hissing and spitting, from deep within the clouds. It was deep, grating, abnormal. “What do you ask of me?”</p><p>Kun looked down towards the ground. He didn’t want to peer too deeply into this void that had materialised - he knew that anything he saw would scar him deeply. Its energy was horrific enough. This wasn’t a sight he wanted to see. He spoke as clearly as he could, raising his voice to the demon. “Rid me of the spirit that plagues me.”</p><p>“Then give me what is mine,” the voice rumbled back.</p><p>Kun nodded, trembling. He kneeled on the floor, picked up the butcher’s knife. He placed his hand on the floor, all fingers curled under his fist apart from his pinky finger. He closed his eyes, whimpering as he braced himself. Kun raised the knife and brought it down fast. He yelped; the pain was immense, but he knew he hadn’t yet severed the bone. He took a second hit. A third. A fourth. Again, and again. As Kun screamed, the appendage finally detached. </p><p>He reopened his eyes, recognising the blood splattered across the floor as his own. He used the knife to nudge the detached appendage into the pentagram, his nausea intensifying. Blood was spurting from his hand at an alarming rate, and he clutched it close to his chest.</p><p>The voice spoke again. “It will be done.”</p><p>Kun looked to the clock in his classroom, just as it turned 3. Renjun appeared in the doorway with that now-familiar evil smile on his face. Kun’s vision was spotty, but he could still see Renjun’s grin fall instantly. He couldn’t read the expression on the thing’s face. It could have been rage. It could even have been fear.</p><p>“No,” Renjun roared. “What have you done?”</p><p>The tornado picked up, and Kun flew flat on his back with the intensity of the wind. A pinprick of light spawned in its centre and Kun had to shield his eyes from it, hiding in the crook of his elbow while his other hand was still clamped close to his chest.</p><p>“No! No! Fuck you, Qian Kun!” Huang Renjun shrieked, until… silence. Everything was still. Kun sat up, dizziness wracking his senses. For the first time since the whole ordeal began, he felt something similar to calm. The room was quiet, still, and empty, save for himself. The demon he had summoned was gone. Huang Renjun was gone. The quiet disoriented him; he felt like it had been a while since he truly experienced quiet.</p><p>Kun picked up his knife once again and cut along the bottom of his shirt, wrapping the material tightly around his stub of a finger in an attempt to slow the bleeding. He felt faint - he knew he’d lost a substantial amount of blood. He stood, staggering out of his bombsite of a classroom and stumbling into the hallway. He bent, heaving onto the floor, bile burning his throat and mouth. He probably needed to get to a hospital, but how would he explain himself?</p><p>Kun felt a pat on his back - a warm, comforting gesture. Wiping saliva from his mouth and chin, he looked up, and found himself staring into a pair of friendly brown eyes, surrounded by aged wrinkles. Something inside Kun simply knew that he was a kind figure, a peaceful figure.</p><p>“It’s gone now, son,” the old man spoke, his voice croaky. Kun merely stared at him, wide-eyed, as he talked. “I’ve had students like that one before. They feed on your energy, eat away at you. Look into your past to find the best way to torture you. But it’s gone now. It’s gone.”</p><p>Kun stood up straight, or as straight as he could manage in his current condition. He didn’t recognise the teacher standing before him. “Who are you?” he panted, squinting at the other man.</p><p>“Don’t worry about me, son, I’m long gone” the man responded with a wry smile. “I taught here long, long ago. Just listen to me - my God, son, if you take notice of one thing in your life, let it be this -” the man leaned in close to whisper in Kun’s ear. Kun closed his eyes, listening as closely as he could despite his faltering consciousness. “When you involve yourself with something like this, <em>sometimes they come back</em>.”</p><p>When Kun opened his eyes again, the man was gone.</p><p>Kun wobbled outside, breathing in the night air as if he’d been deprived of oxygen for weeks. It was over, the weight on his chest was gone. He could breathe. He could live. All he could do now was pick up the pieces. But the old man’s words echoed in his mind,</p><p>
  <em>Sometimes they come back.</em>
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